rh.conanthewarrior-第24部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　　But　Gorulga；　the　present　high　priest；　as　one　confident　in　his　knowledge　of　his　own　integrity；　announced　that　he　would　go　with　a　handful　of　followers　to　revive　the　ancient　custom。　And　in　the　excitement　tongues　buzzed　indiscreetly；　and　Conan　caught　the　clue　for　which　he　had　sought　for　weeks…the　overheard　whisper　of　a　lesser　priest　that　sent　the　Cimmerian　stealing　out　of　Keshia　the　night　before　the　dawn　when　the　priests　were　to　start。
　　Riding　as　hard　as　he　dared　for　a　night　and　a　day　and　a　night；　he　came　in　the　early　dawn　to　the　cliffs　of　Alkmeenon；　which　stood　in　the　southwestern　corner　of　the　kingdom；　amidst　uninhabited　jungle　which　was　taboo　to　the　mon　men。　None　but　the　priests　dared　approach　the　haunted　vale　within　a　distance　of　many　mailes。　And　not　even　a　priest　had　entered　Alkmeenon　for　a　hundred　years。
　　No　man　had　ever　climbed　these　cliffs；　legends　said；　and　none　but　the　priests　knew　the　secret　entrance　into　the　valley。　Conan　did　not　waste　time　looking　for　it。　Steeps　that　balked　these　black　people；　horsemen　and　dwellers　of　plain　and　level　forest；　were　not　impossible　for　a　man　born　in　the　rugged　hills　of　Cimmeria。
　　Now　on　the　summit　of　the　cliffs　he　looked　down　into　the　circular　valley　and　wondered　what　plague；　war；　or　superstition　had　driven　the　members　of　that　ancient　white　race　forth　from　their　stronghold　to　mingle　with　and　be　absorbed　by　the　black　tribes　that　hemmed　them　in。
　　This　valley　had　been　their　citadel。　There　the　palace　stood；　and　there　only　the　royal　family　and　their　court　dwelt。　The　real　city　stood　outside　the　cliffs。　Those　waving　masses　of　green　jungle　vegetation　hid　its　ruins。　But　the　domes　that　glistened　in　the　leaves　below　him　were　the　unbroken　pinnacles　of　the　royal　palace　of　Alkmeenon　which　had　defied　the　corroding　ages。
　　Swinging　a　leg　over　the　rim　he　went　down　swiftly。　The　inner　side　of　the　cliffs　was　more　broken；　not　quite　so　sheer。　In　less　than　half　the　time　it　had　taken　him　to　ascent　the　outer　side；　he　dropped　to　the　swarded　valley　floor。
　　With　one　hand　on　his　sword；　he　looked　alertly　about　him。　There　was　no　reason　to　suppose　men　lied　when　they　said　that　Alkmeenon　was　empty　and　deserted；　haunted　only　by　the　ghosts　of　the　dead　past。　But　it　was　Conan's　nature　to　be　suspicious　and　wary。　The　silence　was　primodial；　not　even　a　leaf　quivered　on　a　branch。　When　he　bent　to　peer　under　the　trees；　he　saw　nothing　but　the　marching　rows　of　trunks；　receding　and　receding　into　the　blue　gloom　of　the　deep　woods。
　　Nevertheless　he　went　warily；　sword　in　hand；　his　restless　eyes　bing　the　shadows　from　side　to　side；　his　springy　tread　making　no　sound　on　the　sward。　All　about　him　he　saw　signs　of　an　ancient　civilization；　marble　fountains；　voiceless　and　crumbling；　stood　in　circles　of　slender　trees　whose　patterns　were　too　symmetrical　to　have　been　a　chance　of　nature。　Forest…growth　and　underbrush　had　invaded　the　evenly　planned　groves；　but　their　outlines　were　still　visible。　Broad　pavements　ran　away　under　the　trees；　broken；　and　with　grass　growing　through　the　wide　cracks。　He　glimpsed　walls　with　ornamental　copings；　lattices　of　carven　stone　that　might　once　have　served　as　the　walls　of　pleasure　pavilions。
　　Ahead　of　him；　through　the　trees；　the　domes　gleamed　and　the　bulk　of　the　structure　supporting　them　became　more　apparent　as　he　advanced。　Presently；　pushing　through　a　screen　of　vine…tangled　branches；　he　came　into　a　paratively　open　space　where　the　trees　straggled；　unencumbered　by　undergrowth；　and　saw　before　him　the　wide；　pillared　portico　of　the　palace。
　　As　he　mounted　the　broad　marble　steps；　he　noted　that　the　building　was　in　far　better　state　of　preservation　than　the　lesser　structures　he　had　glimpsed。　The　thick　walls　and　massive　pillars　seemed　too　powerful　to　crumble　before　the　assault　of　time　and　the　elements。　The　same　enchanted　quiet　brooded　over　all。　The　cat…like　pad　of　his　sandaled　feet　seemed　startingly　loud　in　the　stillness。
　　Somewhere　in　this　palace　lay　the　effigy　or　image　which　had　in　times　past　served　as　oracle　for　the　priests　of　Keshan。　And　somewhere　in　the　palace；　unless　that　indiscreet　priest　had　babbled　a　lie；　was　hidden　the　treasure　of　the　forgotten　kings　of　Alkmeenon。
　　Conan　passed　into　a　broad；　lofty　hall；　lined　with　tall　columns；　between　which　arches　gaped；　their　doors　long　rotted　away。　He　traversed　this　in　a　twilight　dimness；　and　at　the　other　end　passed　through　great　double…valved　bronze　doors　which　stood　partly　open；　as　they　might　have　stood　for　centuries。　He　emerged　into　a　vast　domed　chamber　which　must　have　served　as　audience　hall　for　the　kings　of　Alkmeenon。
　　It　was　octagonal　in　shape；　and　the　great　dome　up　in　which　the　lofty　ceiling　curved　obviously　was　cunningly　pierced；　for　the　chamber　was　much　better　lighted　than　the　hall　which　led　to　it。　At　the　farther　side　of　the　great　room　there　rose　a　dais　with　broad　lapis…lazuli　steps　leading　up　to　it；　and　on　that　dais　there　stood　a　massive　chair　with　ornate　arms　and　a　high　back　which　once　doubtless　supported　a　cloth…of…gold　canopy。　Conan　grunted　explosively　and　his　eyes　lit。　The　golden　throne　of　Alkmeenon；　named　in　immemorial　legendry！　He　weighed　it　with　a　practised　eye。　It　represented　a　fortune　in　itself；　if　he　were　but　able　to　bear　it　away。　Its　richness　fired　his　imagination　concerning　the　treasure　itself；　and　made　him　burn　with　eagerness。　His　fingers　itched　to　plunge　among　the　gems　he　had　heard　described　by　story…tellers　in　the　market　squares　of　Keshia；　who　repeated　tales　handed　down　from　mouth　to　mouth　through　the　centuries…jewels　not　to　be　duplicated　in　the　world；　rubies；　emeralds；　diamonds；　bloodstones；　opals；　sapphires；　the　loot　of　the　ancient　world。
　　He　had　expected　to　find　the　oracle…effigy　seated　on　the　throne；　but　since　it　was　not；　it　was　probably　placed　in　some　other　part　of　the　palace；　if；　indeed；　such　a　thing　really　existed。　But　since　he　had　turned　his　face　toward　Keshan；　so　many　myths　had　proved　to　be　realities　that　he　did　not　doubt　that　the　would　find　some　kind　of　image　or　god。
　　Behind　the　throne　there　was　a　narrow　arched　doorway　which　doubtless　had　been　masked　by　hangings　in　the　days　of　Alkmeenon's　life。　He　glanced　through　it　and　saw　that　it　let　into　an　alcove；　empty；　and　with　a　narrow　corridor　leading　off　from　it　at　right　angles。　Turning　away　from　it；　he　spied　another　arch　to　the　left　of　the　dais；　and　it；　unlike　the　others；　was　furnished　with　a　door。　Nor　was　it　any　mon　door。　The　portal　was　of　the　same　rich　metal　as　the　throne；　and　carved　with　many　curious　arabesques。
　　At　his　touch　it　swung　open　so　readily　that　its　hinges　might　recently　have　been　oiled。　Inside　he　halted；　staring。
　　He　was　in　a　square　chamber　of　no　great　dimensions；　whose　marble　walls　rose　to　an　ornate　ceiling；　inlaid　with　gold。　Gold　friezes　ran　about　the　base　and　the　top　of　the　walls；　and　there　was　no　door　other　than　the　one　though　which　he　had　entered。　But　he　noted　these　details　mechanically。　His　whole　attention　was　centered　on　the　shape　which　lay　on　an　ivory　dais　before　him。
　　He　had　expected　an　image；　probably　carved　with　the　skill　of　a　forgotten　art。　But　no　art　could　mimic　the　perfection　of　the　figure　that　lay　before　him。
　　It　was　no　effigy　of　stone　or　metal　or　ivory。　It　was　the　actual　body　of　a　woman；　and　by　what　dark　art　the　ancients　had　preserved　that　form　unblemished　for　so　many　ages　Conan　could　not　even　guess。　The　very　garments　she　wore　were　intact…and　Conan　scowled　at　that；　a　vauge　uneasiness　stirring　at　the　back　of　his　mind。　The　arts　that　preserved　the　body　should　not　have　affected　the　garments。　Yet　there　they　were…gold　breast…plates　set　with　concentric　circles　of　small　gems；　gilded　sandals；　and　a　short　silken　skirt　upheld　by　a　jeweled　girdle。　Neither　cloth　nor　metal　showed　any　signs　of　decay。
　　Yelaya　was　coldly　beautiful；　even　in　death。　Her　body　was　like　alabaster；　slender　yet　voluptuous；　a　great　crimson　jewel　gleamed　against　the　darkly　piled　foam　of　her　hair。
　　Conan　stood　frowning　down　at　her；　and　then　tapped　the　dais　with　his　sword。　Possibilities　of　a　hollow　containing　the　treasure　occurred　to　him；　but　the　dais　rang　solid。　He　turned　and　paced　the　chamber　in　some　indecision。　Where　should　he　search　first；　in　the　limited　time　at　his　disposal？　The　priest　he　had　overheard　babbling　to　a　courtesan　had　said　the　treasure　wa